


Writer's Block

by MaxBetta



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxBetta/pseuds/MaxBetta
Summary: Successful author Sansa Stark has a nagging case of writer’s block, but inspiration comes to her doorstep.





	Writer's Block

Bestselling novelist Sansa Stark was out of ideas, and after several weeks with zero progress, the pressure was on. After all six of her books were featured in the New York Times, she had made more money than she could possibly spend in her lifetime, and she was seriously considering retiring. But, after several persuasive phone calls and emails back and forth with her publisher, she was offered a generous advance for book seven, and she couldn’t refuse.

 

Sitting in her old oak chair, her third cup of coffee cooling on her desk, she was drawing a blank. The computer screen showed nothing but an empty page, the cursor blinking relentlessly, as if it were taunting her. She had tried everything. She went for a walk, listened to music, read other books, googled writing prompts, checked out writer’s block tips on Pinterest, but nothing helped. She even took a hot yoga class and started drinking fermented tea, both at the advice of her hippie next door neighbor, but all that came of her efforts was hellacious body odor and farts that could kill an elephant. She was drumming her fingers on the top of her desk, lamenting her life’s choices, when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t completely unexpected. A couple days prior she had gotten drunk on cheap wine and ordered supplies from Amazon Prime. Notebooks, colorful gel pens, fancy pencils, and a wax seal. She didn’t know what she would use the seal for, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

 

She huffed and put her slippers on, then shuffled to the door, haphazardly smoothing her unwashed hair. Upon opening it, she was faced with the largest man she had ever seen. He was tall, yes, but also broad and stocky, like a bull. He had long dark hair that fell to his shoulders in waves. His warm brown eyes distracted her from the pink scarring that covered most of the left side of his face. His shirt could barely contain the monstrous bulges that were each of his biceps. He was like a warrior or a knight or something.

 

Just then, a vision hit her. In her mind she could see him dressed in shiny armor, a large sword on his hip, and her in a sapphire blue velvet gown, her hair blazing in the wind. They were on the back of a shiny black horse, riding through a green hillside just before sunset. He had rescued her from a tower and pledged his undying love and protection. She held on tight to his large body as the horse took them toward what would be their new home, as husband and wife. They would experience the deepest love known to man, and have incredible sex, and make babies, and maybe start a little farm, and...

 

She snapped out of her vision when she heard a deep voice coming from beyond.

 

“Miss?”

 

She blinked, startled. “Yes?

 

“I said I need your signature on the bottom line, right above where it says ‘recipient.’” He handed her the pen and his clipboard. “You alright?” He looked genuinely concerned.

 

She signed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and handed them both back to him. “I’m fine, I was just thinking.”

 

He handed her the box, then gave a brief smile and a nod. “Okay then. Have a nice day.”

 

She watched him walk away, examining the rest of his physique, her eyes lingering much too long on his muscular rear as he climbed back into his delivery truck.

 

Struck by inspiration, she shut the door, dropped the box to the floor, and raced back to her writing chair. Opening a new document on her computer, she began typing furiously. The story was practically writing itself, and before she knew it, she had completed ten pages. She continued typing, only pausing when her publisher called to check on whether or not she was making any progress.

 

“It’s coming along very well,” she exclaimed, much to the delight of the executive on the other end. “Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to go, I don’t want to lose my momentum.”

 

“Oh, splendid. Yes, no need to stay on for long. I would appreciate a few details, though...we are having our weekly meeting tomorrow and I’d like to be able to say something on your behalf.”

 

She hesitated. “Sure, um...tell them that it’s going to be a romance.”

 

“A...romance? But you write murder mystery.” His tone was less than optimistic.

 

“Yes, well, now I write romance. Pulse pounding, skin tingling, bodice ripping romance.”

 

She could hear him gulp. “How exciting. I’ll be sure to mention it.”

 

“Thanks. Have to go. I’ll update you within a few days.” She ended the call and hung up the phone before he could distract her any further.

 

Refocusing on her computer screen, she cocked her head to the side and bit her lower lip.

 

_Swollen? No. Rigid? No. Engorged! Definitely engorged._


End file.
